 I dream of cloisters of marblewhere in divinesilencethe heroes, standing, rest;at night, in light of the soul,I speak with them: at night!They are in a row: I walkamong the rows: the stone handsI kiss them;the stone eyes open;the stone lips move;the stone beards tremble;they seize the sword of stone; they cry:place the sword in the sheath!Mute, I kiss their hand.